


The Scavenger

by fangirl_outlet



Series: Reylo oneshots [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Jakku, Pre-Canon, Rey of Jakku, Reylo - Freeform, Young Ben Solo, Young Rey, not a fun place but lots of fun faces, passing reference to underage drinking, these poor space babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23211205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_outlet/pseuds/fangirl_outlet
Summary: Four years before TFA, Rey spots a new ship in the Nima Outpost shipyard -- a beat-up, white freighter. As she's poking around for anything she could take off Plutt's hands, young Rey finds a tiny rebel fighter doll.The dyad feels are strong with this one.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Reylo oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633939
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	The Scavenger

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the little Ben Solo rollout video that FINALLY came out
> 
> PROMPT: someone write a fic where rey finds the doll in the falcon after plutt acquires the ship and feels incredibly attached to it for reasons unknown to her and brings back to her AT-AT because it's a treasure she found.

Rey’s speeder whined as she whipped it into Nima Outpost. The little town -- if a few shacks and a couple of grimy cantinas count as a town -- was packed today, notwithstanding Jakku’s admittedly low standards. Faces she’d never seen before, species she didn’t even know existed clamored around the square. 

With the shiny blasters and thick weathered leather jackets some of them were toting around it was clear they weren’t from around these parts. Probably bounty hunters. Or desperately lost tourists. 

With this many people, she knew she should be rushing, but Rey gave herself a moment, just one moment, to scan the faces in the crowd. But no luck. 

It was okay. She could wait another day. They’d be back. Just another day. 

She  _ really _ didn’t have time to waste anyway. The longer the line, the less portions to barter for. Huffing to get a bit of sand off her face, Rey slid down to the ground and started unhooking her cargo. She had stayed an extra three hours on the star destroyer -- the big one seven klicks further than anyone else ever typically went out -- but it was worth it. With the scraps she found and a bit of tinkering, even Unkar Plutt would have to give her a portion or two more than her usual haul. 

_ Happy 15th lifeday to me. Happy 15th lifeday to me.  _ She sang in her head as she trudged over to Plutt’s.

As she waited in the back of the line, Rey noticed a gaggle of folks walking back from the shipyard laughing about some poor old-timer named Han Solo. Behind them was a new addition to the field -- a dingy white freighter parked in the back corner. It was smoking. 

One of that group, a tall blonde man, caught her staring in their direction and shot her a sly grin. She rolled her eyes. Offworlders like that were only good for two things -- scamming free meals from the cantina and stories of the ships they saw out in the stars, the planets they visited.

_ What _ was taking Plutt so long? 

If he was already dragging out his haggling with the other scavengers, Rey was starting to not like her odds about winning over that extra portion. She poked her head around the large Duro in front of her and groaned when she saw the hulking Crolute nowhere near his window. Shifting her sack of scraps on her shoulder, Rey set out to find him -- probably passed out in the shade behind his shack. 

But when she rounded the corner, she saw her “guardian” snarling down at a Mandalorian in dusty, dented armor. Rey couldn’t help stare at the nifty jet pack and felt torn between wondering how many portions she could trade for it and what it would be like to soar on it. 

“Look all I’m saying is this,” the modulated mando raised his hands with cool ease. “If you think you’re ever going to make a profit off that ship, it needs a lot of work.”

“And how do I know you’re not just going to fly off in it as soon as I let you near it,” Plutt grumbled. 

“I could do it,” Rey volunteered. “And a lot faster, cheaper, and in all honesty, better than this guy.” 

“Girl!” Plutt whipped around. “How many times do I have to tell you to  _ stop _ doing that.”

The mando just looked over at her, condescension practically rolling off of him like a heatwave. She hoped his mask was sweaty. 

“What does a desert rat like you know about ships,” he asked.

Rey dropped her sack on the ground next to her, dozens of imperial ship parts  _ pristinely  _ removed without a dent or flaw, rolled out. 

She cocked an eyebrow at him, “You pick things up around these parts.” She turned to the scrapmaster, who was already eyeing the parts she brought him. “Pay me --  _ fairly --  _ for these and throw in a bottle of the booze I know these offworlders smuggled you and I’ll make sure that ship sings.” 

She stuck out her rations bag, pointedly ignoring the Mandalorian at this point, as Plutt dumped at least 20 portions -- a solid three more than she was hoping for -- and a bottle of what looked like Chandrillian wine inside. This guy must have been  _ really  _ overcharging the Crolute. 

“You’re not old enough for that stuff you know.”

“Like that matters,” she said, grabbing a box of Plutt’s tools and striding towards the shipyard. 

***

Turns out the Mandalorian was right about one thing -- this white freighter Plutt dragged in did need a lot of work. It was utter garbage. It smelled like it too. 

But there was something...familiar to it. Rey cocked her head to one side, her three buns bobbing with the movement, as she tried to piece it together. This thrum of excitement she got looking at it. The urge to take it on a joy ride. 

But she had work to do. 

Rey circled around the bottom of the hull -- peering up at the dangling wires and sparking rivets -- these were easy fixes. They didn’t necessarily impact the health of the ship, but Plutt liked his things and he liked them to look better than the place they were parked in. 

Clamoring across the top of the ship -- Rey cleaned out the heat exhaust vent, readjusted the inter-level conduits, and oiled up the sunlight engines. She even dusted off the front viewport for good measure. 

Wiping the sweat off her brow when she finished, Rey glanced up at her handiwork. It wasn’t perfect. But if it ever needed to get off the ground in a pinch, it could. Not that Plutt would actually ever fly this thing. Or anything for that matter. 

Technically she didn’t have to worry about the internal wiring of the ship. Plutt said that was fine. And anything she did -- he’d probably mess up later anyway pretending he knew how everything worked. 

But still, Rey opened the hull. At the very least she could take a few supplies -- and knickknacks if she found anything particularly useful -- off of Plutt’s grubby hands. As she ducked inside, that same thrill came back. A little whoop in her gut even as she peered around at the messy common space. It made her feel a little dangerous, a little sneaky. 

She made her way to the cockpit first, intent on maybe swiping some tools or even snacks the previous owner had stashed away. But she couldn’t help plopping herself down in the pilot's seat with a giggle. Her legs swung, barely skimming the floor, as she settled in -- an undercurrent of electricity in her blood. 

“I’m calculating the coordinates for our hyperspace jump! We only get one shot at this!” She mumbled at her imaginary co-pilot as she fiddled with the controls. She yanked hard on the steering mechanism. “Quick, punch it!”

Rey leaned back against the seat. Sighing up at the bright Jakku sky, she imagined herself up beyond the atmosphere, this white ship dancing amongst the stars. And maybe one day, after her parents found her, she’d find a co-pilot of her own. And they’d all go exploring the galaxy together, and find a nice green planet or a blue one and they’d all just stay together forever. 

She could almost make out the shape of it, soft and hazy like an echo -- a tall broad type of fellow, wild hair, dark eyes, laughing over at her as he wound their fingers together across the console. 

_ Sigh _ . A girl could dream, couldn’t she? 

But, again, she had work to do. As she made her way out of the cockpit, Rey eyed a mass of tangled wiring on the wall.  _ That’s going to cause a headache for someone one day _ . 

Her bag was getting heavy with the amount of ration snacks she found in the tiny kitchenette as she wound her way into the last room -- someone’s private quarters. It was sparse, just a cot in the corner and a closet partitioned off with a curtain.

She rummaged through a few drawers, finding a perfectly good leather strap she could add to the staff she had back at her shelter. An old fighter helmet! But most of it was clutter. Old shirts that were too thick for the Jakku heat, a few pieces of parchment, a compass, and feathers with a sharp end. Rey tested it against the tip of her finger -- definitely not sharp enough to use as a knife. 

In her last drawer, she found a navy blue box, in much better shape than the rest of the junk in this ship. Gingerly, she lifted the lid and peered inside. She found a few small balls, a uselessly small bottle, and at the bottom -- a worn rebel fighter doll. 

Rey was too old for toys. She knew that. But still, her fingers wrapped around the little guy and she smiled. Looking down at it, she felt a flush of warmth, of joy. 

A soft vision came to her, a story she told herself she was imagining: a little boy, dark hair and floppy ears tearing out of the room as fast as his little legs would carry him only to be carried back in immediately, draped unceremoniously over the shoulder of an older man. Rey sniffled as she watched the dad tuck his squirming son into the cot, pressing a kiss to his forehead and to the tiny doll clutched in his tiny fist. 

Rey looked down at the doll. “It’s okay. You can come home with me now.” 

***

Rey jolted up in her bed, the nightmare still lingering at the corner of her vision. A dark figure. A snowy world. A lost boy. A voice. 

_ I’ll come back to you sweetheart _ . It still rang in her ears. 

Shivering, Rey looked around her tiny AT-AT, trying to ground herself back to Jakku. She was always so, so cold after these dreams, even in the hot desert night. She spotted the rebel doll she found earlier that day and desperately snatched it up. 

She held it tightly against her chest, rocking slightly and tried to slow down her breathing. Somehow, the doll still smelled like soft soap -- a fruity smell Rey breathed in deep. It settled her, deep within her bones and staved off a bit of that chill. 

Rey kept it next to her as she eased herself back down under the covers. Staring up at the wall where she etched all of her Jakku days, she tucked the doll tighter under her chin, snuggling it close. As she started to doze off again, she felt the faintest of tingles at the base of her skull, like a thread drawn taut. She squeezed the doll. 

With it, she didn’t feel so alone.

**** 

The  _ classified _ droid she found beeped at her from outside the ATAT. Rey, sighed, wondering again why she agreed to go through with this. 

_ Because it was trying to get home _ . 

She scanned her space just one last time, the jitters she woke up with in the morning still not quite settled. Everything was in its place. And it would be when she got back. Because she  _ was _ coming back. 

Her eyes fell on her rebel doll, still propped up on her pillow from where she left it this morning. One of its little arms was raised up against the fabric, but it looked like it was waving goodbye. 

Ignoring the hitch in her breath, Rey grabbed the doll and shoved it in her bag before turning out of the AT-AT. 

**** 

“The garbage will do!” Rey shouted, as she slid to a stop and sprinted to the right.

A TIE fighter screamed overhead as she threw her bag into a back room of the white freighter. At this point, she  _ really _ hoped the repairs she made four years ago were still miraculously intact. 

The boy that dragged her into all this -- and  _ kept trying to hold her hand  _ \-- made his way down to the gunner as Rey made a beeline for the cockpit. She threw herself into the pilot's seat, flicking on all the controls she could reach.

The engine roared to life front, under and all around her -- a bit of splutter but it got there -- and Rey felt that thrum of excitement again as the ship lifted off the ground. 

**** 

Han Solo sighed as he looked around his old quarters. They were smaller than he remembered, just as messy, but smelled distinctly less  _ Wookie _ . 

He walked over to the cot, remembering fondly all the nights he kept his princess warm and  _ awake _ in that very spot. He traced the seam of the smaller bunk he designed, back when he thought family hyperspace trips could be a regular thing. 

It really was like he had stepped back in time a bit. Nothing had changed in this room, in this ship but so much else everywhere else in his life had. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the girl’s bag. Already tossed around his ship like it was hers. But there was something else. 

A little doll in a faded orange jumpsuit was sprawled out on the cabin floor. 

Han picked it up, his brow furrowed, and pressed a light kiss to the tiny rebel fighter.

The retired smuggler made his way back to the cockpit in silence, waving off Chewie’s confused coo. He had work to do. Even if he couldn’t stop thinking about the little rebel doll in his jacket pocket. 

He focused on the overstressed console, on the blaring alarms, on keeping his ship in one piece.

“We have to stabilize this or we’re about to be space dust,” He growled at the girl. “Do you kn--” 

She ripped a tangle of wires out of  _ his _ wall and grinned up at him as the ship shuddered into normalcy. 

“I  _ bypassed _ the compressor,” she practically giggled. 

Han blinked. He had seen that look before. 

  
_ Ben would love her _ . 


End file.
